Valedictory, Hamilton College, 2005
From Wikisource
 |
This page does not provide {{Header}} information. If you'd like to help, add a comment, or edit the page and replace "{{no header}}" with the following and fill in at least the title and author fields:
{{header
| title =
| author =
| year =
| translator =
| section =
| previous =
| next =
| notes =
}}
Click here for a list of Author pages that link to this page. |
Daniel Walker, Valedictorian of the Class of 2005, Hamilton College
On a Friday night this past January, I was in New York with the Buffers to sing at an alumni event when I started feeling a bit like an alumnus myself. I felt for a moment that I had more in common with the alumni of 2003 than I did with the freshmen of 2008. After just one more semester, I'd have to leave the Hill - a prospect that, at the end of that semester, still terrifies me. It's great here: great people, great events, great challenges. Hamilton College is an ivory tower with an open bar, and so I - who work and play equally hard - have come to love this place, and have been dead-set against leaving it. I feel more at home in Babbitt 17 than anyplace else on earth. I don't want to go. I'm scared to go.
That night in New York, to reassure myself, I asked several alumni what life was like after college. The most common response was "Don't graduate!" I've actually toyed with this possibility from time to time, because often I've thought that life can't get any better than college. I can only speak for myself, but I suspect a lot of my classmates have shared that fear. So I think it's worth spending a few minutes wrestling with it today, figuring out how we might escape this feeling that the best days in our lives are behind us.
In short, we should age well. Rather than tell younger generations what life was like when we were their age, we ought to enjoy our own age, to live in a world of action, not one of nostalgia. There's a point at which we all have to leave childhood behind us, but that doesn't mean that childishness should ever be below us.
My father turned fifty-seven two weeks ago, and in a few months my mother will follow suit. (Sorry, you two; this is relevant, I promise.) I think by all accounts--not just my own--they qualify as great parents. But I don't think I've ever been as fond of them as I was last Christmas, when they told me about their retirement plans: to sell our house, live at our camp in upstate New York each summer, and drive around the South every winter, living on the road. Some people might call this a "young" activity, but (sorry, you two) my parents aren't young. I think a more accurate description would be spontaneous-if it's possible for advance planning ever to be spontaneous. Their plans sound adventurous to me, like something I'd want to do myself. And I shall. In a few weeks I'm leaving for Europe, and I have no idea how long I'll stay there; I don't need to know. And I'll travel a lot. This is where my little anecdote becomes relevant, so pay attention. My parents may end up doing at sixty-two the same thing I'm doing at twenty-seven, and hopefully my kids will one day be able to say the same of me. This, I think, is the way to make college happen every day of our lives: by exercising in the 'real world' the same spontaneity and freedom we've had on the Hill.
Because we made our own schedules in college, we were free a lot of the time to drop what we were doing and enjoy ourselves. Frisbee, sledding, Texas hold-em, mini-golf, Beirut, Family Guy, soccer -- this is the kind of stuff that's made college fun for us and our friends, even when it cost us sleep. But it's not just the activities themselves. It's also the possibility of doing them at any time. I don't think many of us would describe our lives here as "mundane," and that's probably because most of us have allowed, or sought, variation in our daily routines. For the past four years, this has enabled us to make any given day better than the previous one. If we want life to keep getting better, we have to give it room to grow by keeping our options open.
College was fun because it was an adventure. To make life off the hill equally fun, then, all we have to do is have more adventures. Sure, you can buy a house and have kids, but don't settle down. Instead of getting caught up in an endless race for stability, try to build some instability into your life. Most people think of vacations as exceptions to some usual routine. But I think we'll be happier if we allow vacations to become the routine. Vary your surroundings. Call up a friend you haven't talked to in a long time. Go for an impromptu midnight drive with no destination in mind. Have a sense of humor at work. Try twice a week to go someplace you've never been. Play a video game - not just with your kids, but with other adults. Without warning, take your spouse or friends on a weekend road trip to someplace you've always wanted to go. The possibilities are endless; I'll leave the creativity to the rest of you. You get the point I'm making. Nostalgia is stupid if it cripples us. Instead of mourning the freedom we had at Hamilton, we should take it away from the hill with us.
I'm trying to take my own advice. I finished writing this speech at 4:30 this morning, because before that I was out enjoying my senior week. Last night - my second-to-last night at Hamilton - was my first time ever on the roof of South dorm. I visited with a bunch of older alumni, walked around campus, and didn't worry for a second about the valedictory address until I got back to my room. I think this kind of sleep deprivation is actually one of the healthiest habits I've picked up at Hamilton, for reasons which I hope by now are clear.
Now, as alumni, we'll all hopefully be able to sleep a little more. But not before one more night of college. To my classmates: if you're here tonight, make your night not an end but a beginning. Let's meet new people, hang out in new dorms, and make plans to see our best friends again. And try to have wide awake loved ones present to drive us home tomorrow. Because I'm not going to sleep tonight, and I hope none of you does either. Good day, God bless, and eat sma. Thank you.
